The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (16 page)

The common clerks, the wisewoman noted, consumed every last morsel of the food placed before them and seldom had a single spare coin to slip under their plates as a tip, but their senior colleagues sometimes deposited a halfpenny before departing the establishment. The well-to-do sons of the mercantile families, by contrast, were often generous to the dining room staff. One lucky waiter was rumoured to have once caught a half sovereign that had been casually flipped in his direction by some extremely generous diner.

Marsie’ was very adept at loosening the wallets of these young gentlemen. A knowing smile and a few words of her cockney banter often earned her a tip from the young gentlemen. One youthful toff, anxious to gain the approbation of his fellows, once pressed a silver florin into the palm of the London girl’s hand.

Days passed into weeks and the routine of kitchen and dining room became second nature to the wisewoman.

One morning, she noticed an old ash tree struggling for life in a corner of the courtyard, was beginning to burst into leaf, and realized that winter was rapidly giving way to spring. She could not help pondering upon the fact that she was making little progress with her inquires into the affairs of Messer’s Pasco and Pike and their associates. Indeed, only one small item of interest had come her way since she had begun working in the dining room. The male waiters, it transpired, were under strict orders to recommend the ‘Cleopatra Music Hall’ as a lively evening venue to any of the young gentlemen who expressed an interest in going out on the town with their friends.

Yet, even this instruction could well be perfectly above board, for would not Pasco’s various business enterprises be expected to support each other whenever possible? Indeed, no entrepreneur would turn his back on such an opportunity to increase his trade.

Joe Pasco never spoke to the wisewoman during his subsequent visits to the eating house, yet he still seemed to be sexually attracted by her voluptuous form and Hetty sensed that the young businessman was feasting his eyes upon her whenever he was in her presence.

On one occasion, the man had reason to pass close behind her as she was clearing away a pile of dirty crockery and she felt his fingers sliding lightly across her buttocks as he brushed past. Pasco then paused momentarily by the door of the restaurant and glanced for a second or two in her direction, but quite long enough for her to reward him with a coy smile, before he averted his gaze and disappeared through the door of the establishment. However, the entrepreneur made no attempt to cement a closer relationship between them, and the wisewoman began to suspect that Pasco was little more than a rather nervous voyeur. So her scheme to seduce the man and wheedle her way into his confidence was unlikely to succeed. Indeed, as the weeks passed by, Hetty became less sure that her enquires could be advanced by remaining in Pasco’s employment. But her inner-eye warned her to persevere and she resolved to remain at the eating house until late May at the very least. Yet the month of April had not even drawn to a close when Hetty’s occult intuition proved to be correct and a door opened that was destined to lead her into the murky depths of the Manchester underworld.

On the morning of the last day of April, the two women were called into Mr Simister’s tiny office where the kitchen gaffer was waiting to receive them. He invited them to be seated and poured them two cups of tea from an old china pot. Hetty accepted a cup, but she noticed, at once, that Simister was far from being his stern confident self. In fact, he appeared to be strangely troubled and unhappy.

“Ladies,” He began. “This morning, I received an urgent message from Mr Pasco, who, as you probably know, owns the Cleopatra public house and Music Hall.

In the message, he states that the Cleopatra is desperately short of a pair of barmaids and that I am required to hire a horse cab and send you two ladies there without delay!”

Simister paused for a moment and the wisewoman knew instinctively, that the man was struggling with his conscience.

“There are many who hold that a place where strong drink is sold is no place for respectable women. And I confess that I am among that number. But ladies, you must either accept Mr Pasco’s orders or leave his service immediately.”

The kitchen gaffer paused. “If you both decide to leave, then I will give you excellent references and seek to find you alternative employment amongst the members of my chapel congregation. I shall now leave you both for a few minutes and I expect your answer when I return.”

‘The man is trying to give us a warning,’ Hetty decided, as Simister left the room, and as openly as he dares, without risking his position and the livelihood of his large family. But the wisewoman knew that she must disregard the kitchen gaffer’s words and enter service at the Cleopatra, if she was to continue with her current line of enquiry.

‘Yet what of Marsie’; Hetty thought and she turned and faced her workmate.

“You know, lass,” she said. “Simister’s quite right about some of those drinking dens; they are no place for a respectable woman to be! Me, I’m going to give it a chance, for I’m fair sick of makin’dumplings. I might get more tips from buttering up drunks than I receive from serving dinners to hard up clerks with empty pockets?

But you are still young lass! Perhaps you should leave and start a new life as Simister suggests?”

The London girl laughed loud enough to make the teacups rattle.

“Bless you for your concern.” She replied. “But I’d sooner serve ale to Old Nick himself, than scrub floors for one of Simister’s stuck-up chapel cronies! No Hetty,

I’m going along with you for better or worse and that’s the end of the matter!”

The horse cab deposited the two women on the pavement outside the ‘Cleopatra Music Hall.’ The building occupied a corner position where two streets met and the structure was obviously brand new, for the chimney smoke which begrimed the air of Manchester, had not yet removed the shine from the ornate marble cladding that decorated its facade.

The hall was closed at this early hour, but the billboards already carried the names of the various artists who would be performing there during the coming week. The Cleopatra public house stood immediately adjacent to the music hall; this was a much older building and its soot blackened exterior stood out in sharp contrast to its newer companion.

The wisewoman and her friend passed through the glass panelled front door of the public house and gazed across the sea of tables and chairs that occupied the floor of the spacious front saloon. They were also able to make out a long bar, made from polished mahogany running the entire length of the room. This ornate bar, together with the polished glass mirrors, the gleaming brass fittings and the mass of gilded stucco work, suggested that the Cleopatra pub belonged to the huge family of ‘Gin Palaces’ that had sprung up in every industrial city from London to Glasgow.

It was still early and the handful of customers, who had arrived for a late morning drink, were being attended to by a single bored looking girl who was lounging behind the bar.

“You’ll be the new ones.” She remarked, hardly sparing them a second glance.

“Go through the back of the bar and into the rear passageway then knock upon the door marked ‘Office.”

The newcomers did as they were told and they were ushered into the office by a powerfully built woman of about forty years of age and who stood a good six feet in height. The woman was no classical beauty and her plain features were far from improved by the livid purple scar that ran across her forehead and down her right cheek, until it petered out alongside her heavily squared jaw.

The woman gave the London girl little more than a cursory glance, but her dark piercing eyes wandered over the wisewoman’s face and form for almost half a minute.

“So you’re the one they call Hetty! Well, I can make out that you’re much older than your face and figure suggests, you could doubtless give most of the girls who work here a good ten years. But you carry your age well and most of the toffs will take to you as readily as your younger friend here.”

The scar faced woman treated the two newcomers to an almost malevolent stare.

“My name is Mrs. Pasco. Mrs. Mildred Pasco and I run this pub and music hall along with my husband Joe. Work hard and obey every order without question and you’ll both do well here. But if you cross me, it will be at your peril!”

She handed Hetty a room key.

“The pair of you can take the attic bedroom at the head of the stairs. You may also make free with the dresses that you find in the wardrobe. But be sure that you are both on duty in the saloon bar at six o’clock sharp, tonight.”

The newcomers were about to leave the office, when a sharp word from Mrs. Pasco halted them on the threshold.

“A word of warning,” she hissed. “That husband of mine has an over fondness for the ladies and I care not a fig if you let him finger that thing you keep beneath your petticoats. But if I catch him with something else pushed right up yer’skirts, why then I’ll put a scar on yer’faces that will be the twin of the one the brickfield hussies put on me, when I was but a feckless girl. Now get out the pair of you!”

“Gawd’help us!” The London girl breathed in alarm as the office door closed behind them. “I’d not have a tumble with Joe Pasco, not even for a king’s ransom. Not if it means havin’ yonder battle-axe after me blood and no mistake!”

At precisely six o’clock upon the same evening, the wisewoman and her companion began working in the saloon bar of the Cleopatra public house. At first, the two women found the complexity of the work bewildering, for they had to tackle the necessary task of memorizing the complex range of alcoholic drinks, which the establishment sold and the accompanying list of prices. Even so, only a few days were needed for them to become fully conversant with the duties expected of them.